


The fondness of a lusus naturæ (halted work, started a new rewritten version soz)

by orphan_account



Category: Dead By Daylight
Genre: F/M, Slow Updates, claudette is a sweetheart, claudette is nice, eventual smut probs, i just like the killer's lore, includes abusive relationship, sad mom hours, she loved her son so ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-26 12:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Things weren't the same when it was born. She loved him, nevertheless. But that human-skinned monster wished him to die.I'm currently rewriting this. Evelyn's character is too superficial and I want more backstory on this one. My apologies.





	1. The room

Evelyn Thompson would never forget the scream that escaped from her husband's lips upon seeing their newborn son. She trembled, hair stuck to her face, little beads of sweat rolling down, tearful eyes from the pain and quivering lips. "Wha-what monstrosity is this, Evelyn?!", he lamented. His disgust turned into anger. The child in his arms fondled his leather suspenders and his touch enraged him even more. He dropped the groaning nursling into his wife's arms and bolted out of the room. The door's slamming shook the house to the bone.

Evelyn tucked back her auburn hair and sobbed whilst cradling her child. "My baby boy...", she wailed. She feared for her son, but mostly for herself. Maxwell was an intimidating man. Well-kept, with a good reputation, but an absolute egoistical prick. He never loved her. He wanted her, her _capacity to give a male heir to his estate. _Evelyn was the loveliest, most beautiful lass in the town, and she was the best catch for him. Her parents persuaded her to marry him, telling her of how she could eat bread and butter everyday, eat the most exquisite pastries and wear Mulberry silk dresses and extravagant fur coats. She agreed. And that was the worst mistake of her life.

Maxwell's honeymoon phase consisted of wooing her with said luxuries and making her climb onto bed, whispering vulgar comments into her ears and using her without any care. Evelyn's first time was the scariest thing to occur to her. She knew nothing of the bleeding and pain, much less of pleasuring a man. She silently cried herself to sleep that night.

The same routine was repeated, over and over. And when she wasn't getting pregnant, Maxwell would lash out at her. Bruises around her neck would be covered with elegant and soft furs, the blemishes on her arms with long Mulberry silk sleeves, the wounds on her legs by the trailing dresses he bought her. And everyone believed the apparent happiness of the couple. Maxwell tried for a month or two, once more. And once more, he choked her to the point she thought she'd die. 

But when she did get pregnant, he left her alone. And Evelyn felt lonely. She couldn't leave that darned mansion. To hell with the Medovich cakes, the delicacies she ate, the cursed bread and butter she dreamt of eating every morning!

The nine months she just sat around were hell. But the tragedy barely had started.

* * *

"Perhaps, we could drown him?", Maxwell suggested, less airy, his shirt unbuttoned. "No! He's a baby!", Evelyn gasped. For a few moments she was the fierce young woman she was before marrying him. The child sucked on her teat diligently. Those breasts were the same Maxwell had fondled in those nights. He shuddered with disgust.

"Whatever you wish. But I don't want to see him."

She sighed and stared at her child. He was playing with her locks and giggling.

She smiled softly and shuddered.


	2. Up the river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst because baby boy needs to suffer for a while

_"Max, your eyes always look sad. Why?"_

_Claudette's timid voice sounded like the leaves whispering. Max trembled. He didn't want to remember._

* * *

Evelyn woke up to the sounds of construction. Panicked, she looked around. Her son was still there. She huffed a sigh of relief and cradled him. Peering through the doors of the mansion, she tiptoed to the bathroom and caught sight of her tired face. The kid stared at the mirror, excitedly shaking its arms and smiling with glee. Was it a smile? Evelyn couldn't tell. She lazily tied her hair back and went out to search for her husband.

She knew that something was wrong. Really wrong. He'd never say yes so easily. After a few turns, she found him lurking near the basement's stairs. 

"Maxwell, what's going on...?", she asked, cuddling her son, fixing him so he couldn't see his face.

_"That horrid beast needs a place to live"_

* * *

When he turned four, Maxwell forced his wife to come out of the basement. To leave that _horrid beast _alone.

And once more, the dresses, the cakes, the butter and bread.

And once more, the bruises, the lust and the crying silently to sleep.

And Evelyn was pregnant. But the pain was so much for her frail body, the stress tore her apart. And after receiving a fierce beating, she ran to her son. She's quietly hum to him. She couldn't touch him. She'd tremble, the torture was unbearable. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to tell him she loved him _so much. _She had resigned herself to live only for her little one's sake. She stopped caring when Maxwell would carelessly pounce onto her like a madman and use her like a toy. She didn't mind him screaming at her. 

Her child was everything to her.

But the last straw was when she caught a glimpse of Maxwell's latest catch. Ringlets of gold bounced everywhere. _She had lost most of hers. _Pale, smooth skin. _She was haggard and her beauty was leaving her. _Perky, bouncy, round breasts. _Hers were abused._

She watched her husband kiss hungrily the maiden as she bounced on him, moaning with ecstasy. How perfect she looked. Evelyn's face held almost no reaction and she made no sounds. She felt like an idiot just standing there. The few minutes that passed felt like an eternity and when the illicit lovers caught their breaths and sweated like fools they turned to where Evelyn stood. With a war cry, like any wife she grabbed the girl's perfect locks and thrashed her violently. 

"Rosie!", Maxwell called out. A scuffle broke out. In a fit of panic, Rosie ran upstairs. Evelyn followed behind. And that would prove to be a fatal mistake. She never thought she had lost her agility, her running elegance. She was a country girl, after all. When she tripped was when she had found out so. A yelp escaped her lips as she fell with a loud thud, which seemed loud enough for the youngster to hear in his room. He knew something had happened. He began digging through the prison. Seemed impossible, but he was determined to find out what had happened.

* * *

When Evelyn came to, she couldn't move. She was trapped in her own flesh. A whole new dimension for her suffering. She wept quietly when she saw her parents, her brothers and that _wretched whore Rosie _staring at her so passionately. 

"She's so young...", Maxwell cried to everyone. "She just slipped down the stairs while talking to Rosie...", he continued. Oh, what a lovely actor he was. How cunning and experienced. How talented it was, the way he was able to make everyone cry. Evelyn berated herself. _Who would care for her son? _

Her next few hours where a torture when she found out Rosie was her nurse and was not-so-gently wiping her body. Scratches began to bleed and Rosie just snickered. Oh, how vile she is. How rough and criminal her touch was. How her soft hands could be so hurting, the way Evelyn quietly cried in pain. She berated herself. _Who would care for her son? _

Her weeping became of rage when Maxwell came in. "Rosie, you look so lovely with _that dress_", he cooed, and Evelyn saw. That dress. That Mulberry dress. A rattle escaped her throat, and nothing more. Maxwell's quick steps made her "flinch", in a way, even if she didn't move. She closed her eyes, but opened them quickly when a long, loud moan escaped Rosie. 

They had decided to go at it like rabbits in front of her. How could they be so cruel? What did she ever do to them? Oh, curse them, curse them. Tears emanated like a river from her eyes. She silently pleaded, Death should take her. And them. And Death did come. It came swiftly, brought by the sounds of the two. It had been five days. He didn't eat for five days. He was enraged. Like the mad animal he was, a swift strike at Rosie's neck with a single nail made her bleed out. Her blood sprayed out like a fountain of jewels. It was a beautiful spectacle for Evelyn, so pretty, to point she didn't mind bathing in that tramp's gore.

It came so naturally to him. _It was as if he was a monster._

Evelyn began humming when her son ripped out his father's eyes and left him to die. He got up and heard his mother. Her humming, even if it was sounding so wretched, was so beautiful.

In her last moments, she remembered she had never given her son a name.

_"M-macks..."_

_And she was still beautiful when she was dead._


	3. Aftermath, setting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not really a chappy, just setting things

_-"Do you know of the Thompson's tragedy?"  
_-_"The one where a madman killed that couple, right?"_  
-"And the nurse, too. A lovely lass."  
-"Some say it was Evelyn's child."  
-"Then why would he kill his own mother?"  


_"I believe he was just a wretched monster."_

The land was split up and put for sale. But no one dared to buy it, for the distant sound of a chainsaw was always heard. It didn't matter if they brought the sheriff or the entire police force, the unknown user was hard to catch. 

Perhaps it was his long time alone, or maybe even the fact that he was born into such a cursed environment, that the Entity decided to take him to its realm. And he opened his eyes and found himself being the monster he was meant to be.

_Chasing._

_Killing._

_Slaughtering._

_Being a monster._


	4. Claudette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just wanna make clear i like prototype claudy more and its gonna be dat one

The original four had settled in and had made themselves a name as the _guides _for other new unexperienced survivors. There was Dwight, who taught them teamwork. Meg, who taught them how to get away. Jake, who taught them to be sneaky.

And there was Claudette, who taught them _compassion_. 

Her soft-spoken attitude and gentle persona dragged everyone towards her and looked up to her for advice. One would say she'd be an older sister to some, always vigilant of everyone, making sure no one had lost hope yet. But maybe, just maybe, that was the cause for her sadness. Being perfect, ironically, had its flaws.

* * *

"Claud, are you okay?", the man asked, setting his glasses back up. Claudette nodded her head, albeit hesitantly. "I think I just need a walk...", she trailed off, her shoes making no sound.

She sniffled under a tree. Maybe she wanted to be held. She wanted others to know that she was weak. That she wasn't the level-headed, strong person everyone thought she was. That she was breaking apart.

But she couldn’t tell a soul. She knew she was their pillar, and if she were to break apart, so would everyone.

Unbeknownst to her, the Hillbilly roamed through the trees, limping. He stopped for a while when he heard the soft sobs that escaped Claudette’s lips.

She sounded so much like…

_”M-mother...”, _he stammered. His pace quickened, getting closer to the girl.

Claudette heard the leaves rustling and the heave steps. She recognized who it was almost immediately. She knew there were no rules outside trials and those monsters could do as they please, so she proceeded to get up and tried to leave the spot as soon as possible.

Being a level-headed, practical person, Morel wasn’t the type to believe in love at first sight. At least, that’s what she thought. She was brought to an abrupt halt as soon as their eyes locked. It wasn’t really love at first sight, considering the trials she went through and the amount of times the Hillbilly has slid his chainsaw across her back. But it still made her freeze.

_”Were you crying...?”_

She gasped softly. Who would have thought that the killer, the monster who made those gargling noises could have such a gentle and soothing voice? She shuffled her feet and turned towards him. As many do, she flicked and dried her tears away.

“I-I just…”, she stammered, a warm flush filling her cheeks.   
  


The Hillbilly turned himself towards her in a rather proper manner. Despite his obvious limping, he had a certain air of elegance when he wasn’t murderously chasing survivors around.   
  


_“It is always okay for one to show weakness. Don’t fret. Don’t break apart. Never abandon hope, Claudette.”_

”You know my name?”, she asked. The man in front of her nodded softly. “Thank you”, she said, making that same face that made everyone melt at the campfire and quietly scampered off.

The Hillbilly stood in his place for a few moments. His heart had been racing, and he didn’t know why.


End file.
